


Misdirection

by BymagaJones



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 14:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/901260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BymagaJones/pseuds/BymagaJones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new football player arrives at the school. Can he be as awesome as everyone - except Kurt - seems to think he is?  All abuse implied.  Nothing graphic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This story becomes a little dark. I don't go into specifics about the abuse, but I think I get enough of the point across that you should be warned.

Puck wasn’t an introspective guy; he hadn’t thought much about what would happen the day after they’d all confronted Karofsky and Azimio, what was now known as “The Gaga Incident”. Even though football season was over, he had baseball and glee to keep him busy, and of course there were the ladies. He had the high school girls on one side and the MILFs he saw after school on the other. He was a busy, busy man. However, on this day, he took some time out to help a new student learn the ropes of William McKinley High School, because, face it, he had the place wired.

Kurt, on the other hand, dreaded the next day. As much as he appreciated the save - which had earned Finn and his ridiculous red dress another chance in the Hummel home - he knew that like that one unfortunate elk racing from the lion on an Animal Planet show, he’d eventually get separated from the crowd. The only thing that might keep him alive was the fact that his getting hurt could result in more than just a slap on the wrist. A couple of weeks earlier, a black kid had gotten killed in a small, very white town on the other side of the state, and everyone was back to being up in arms about “hate crimes”. Kurt figured it would all die down when the next cause arose, but until then, he had a small buffer. In their anger, Karofsky and Azimio had probably forgotten about that little detail the day before, although to be fair, Kurt had to admit that his mouth hadn’t helped matters.

He’d promised Brittany that he’d bring her favorite nail polish to glee practice - Pink Sapphire was a dusty rose color filled with little flecks of other shades of pink - and he’d forgotten it in his locker. So he’d retraced his steps and got that oppressed feeling, as if someone were staring at him so hard that they weighed him down. He turned to find Karosky and Azimio standing behind him, evil grins on their faces.

“Oh look, the fag’s alone,” Karofsky said, nodding, his breath almost coming out in pants.

First, Kurt tried to brazen it out. “I’m glad you are so interested in my social calendar. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to coordinate schedules with you. I’m late.”

He’d tried to brush past them, but Azimio grabbed his shoulder and shoved him back against the lockers. “But we’re not finished with you.”

And that’s how it began. They threw slurs at him, he retaliated with verbal jabs, most of which he was sure had gone right over their square, blocked heads. But by the time he’d gotten shoved to the end of the hallway, he knew they were too angry to consider the trouble they’d get in if they actually physically hurt him. Even knowing that, he was damned if he were going to cower in front of them, so he stood up and shouted back to them, even as Azimio balled up his fist.

And Finn stood up to them, just like a big brother would, Kurt remembered proudly. During their earlier fight his crush had died a horrible death, tied to a wooden stake and burned alive, but from the ashes was growing the beginning of a new respect. Kurt had been on the receiving end of too many heartbreaks to suddenly decide that Finn had completely changed after one ugly scene with Burt Hummel, but Kurt was willing to wait and see.

The next day, at the beginning of Mr. Sheuster’s Spanish class, Puck brought in a new guy. “Dudes, this is Max Bolt, a completely badass nose guard from Detroit. He’s going here now.”

Kurt took a moment to look over the new student and wasn’t impressed with what he saw. Old, dirty sneakers, jeans hanging halfway off his ass, football jersey, and a large, square head that seemed to rise directly from his shoulders. “Great,” he thought, “just what we need, another neanderthal.” With that, he returned to staring out the window and daydreaming of being Tim Gunn’s special guest on “Project Runway”.

During glee, everyone was still running on the adrenaline high from the previous day, so Mr. Schuester really wasn’t able to control them all that much. They worked on a little choreography, then broke into separate groups to work on the steps. Kurt, Mike, and Puck, surprisingly enough, were always the first guys to get the steps, and they would each take a couple of people and go over the steps with them. Brittany also got the steps quickly, but she’d get distracted by thoughts of unicorns or something and would end up having a conversation with an imaginary friend. Of course, Mercedes was always in Kurt’s group, and they’d finish quickly and end up standing and gossiping until everyone else was ready to leave. Today, though, all everyone could talk about was Max Bolt, especially Puck.

“What’s the deal with the new boy?” Mercedes asked him.

“You’re going to keep missing out on the news if you stick with French,” Kurt muttered, making a mental note to extra-moisturize his hands when he got home. “But in this case, it’s no big deal, just yet another jock more interested in knocking people over than in anything that’s actually going to help him when he graduates. Unless,” Kurt considered, “he wanted to try his hand at carny work.”

“Hey,” Puck said, walking over to him. “Max Bolt’s awesome. He was all conference In Detroit.”

Kurt gave Puck his like-I-even-know-or-care-what-that-means look and said, “Well then by all means, let’s give him a key to the city.”

“That means,” Finn added, “that we might actually win a few games next year.”

“And we won’t have to do some dumb-ass gay dance to do it,” Puck finished.

“Considering that he probably wouldn’t be able to remember the steps…”

“That’s not fair,” Finn said. “Have you even met him?”

“I saw him when Puck ushered him into Spanish,” Kurt said.

“How do you know that he’s an idiot?” Puck asked.

“From the top of his flowbee haircut to the bottom of his steel toed boots, he looks just like the other neanderthals on the team. Present company excluded, of course,” Kurt added belatedly.

“Is he cute at least?” Mercedes asked. “With a butt that’ll look all nice and bubbly in his uniform?”

“Sure, if by ‘bubbly’ you mean you could park a bus on it,” Kurt suggested, absently taking note that he really needed to take better care of his nails.

“I thought glee club was about accepting others,” Finn said.

“Seriously,” Puck growled. “You took one look at him and rushed to judgment.”

Kurt made a point of looking around the room. “First of all, he’s not in glee. Second, I don’t have to like him, and if all goes well, I’ll never even have to speak with him. Besides, Puck, you’re so in love with him, he doesn’t really need any additional adoration.”

Puck made a move toward Kurt, who stepped back involuntarily, brushing against Mercedes. After glaring at Kurt for another few seconds, Puck growled and stomped across the room to join Rachel’s group. Finn gave them an apologetic look and followed him.

“Puck must really be pissed to join Rachel’s group,” Mercedes whispered.

Shrugging, Kurt walked to his bag. He reached for it, drawing back and making a fist when he saw his hand shaking. He wasn’t sure if he were upset about Puck’s adoration for someone he’d just met or if it were a reaction to having yet another bully ready to jump in his face. As much as he hated to admit it to himself - and never would he say it aloud - he was still trying to regain his equilibrium after The Gaga Incident. It was still fresh in his mind, but he was determined not to let it affect him more than it had already. Taking a breath to regain control, he reached back out, pleased to see his hand nice and steady. Bag in hand, he turned to his best girlfriend. “Ready to go?”

Mercedes’ eyes were narrowed. “Are you okay?” She asked quietly. “I know yesterday - “

“ - was yesterday,” Kurt said. “I’m over it.” Mercedes didn’t look convinced. “Really.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “But I’m here if you need to talk or anything.”

“And that’s one of the many, many reasons why I love you,” Kurt said, bumping his shoulder against hers.

Later that night, Kurt found himself unable to sleep. He needed to have a good seven hours minimum if he didn’t want to look puffy or blotchy, so he finally decided that some warm milk was in order. Grabbing his robe, he slipped quietly upstairs. He wasn’t sure why he bothered, since Finn slept like he’d been knocked unconscious. Kurt would be over there with a mirror checking for his breath if Finn didn’t sound like a locomotive.

Thank heavens for earplugs, he thought, smiling. Taking them out of his ears, he didn’t realize that his dad and Carol were in the kitchen until he was almost in the room. He stopped short when he realized that they were talking about him.

“… would they have done to him if Finn hadn’t come along?” Kurt’s dad was saying. “With that smart mouth, Kurt’s always been able to talk himself out of so many confrontations, and I know he doesn’t tell me about half the stuff that happens to him at that school as it is.”

“He’s tough,” Carol said.

“But he shouldn’t have to be!” Burt said angrily. “He shouldn’t have to be so strong at sixteen!

“I just knew something like this was going to happen when he got older. I tried to get him to take karate classes when he was eight.”

Kurt remembered that time. The uniforms were unflattering to any figure; he couldn’t understand why they didn’t make everyone wear form-fitting catsuits made from a nice, breathable fiber.

“He didn’t like it?”

“He said that the uniform was made of steel, and it chafed his skin.” Burt chuckled. “He actually used the word ‘chafed’.”

A corner of Kurt’s mouth rose as he remembered the conversation that ended with his dad telling him that he didn’t have to do it if he didn’t want to, that it was his choice. Even then, his dad had respected his decisions.

“But now I wish I’d made him do it. I wish I’d forced him to go in there and learn how to defend himself.

“I keep thinking about that boy, the one who was found beaten to death outside of his hometown. That could be -” Burt’s voice cracked, “that could’ve been Kurt. Sometimes I wake up at night, worried that I’m going to get one of those calls…”

Kurt stood there, hand over his mouth, aching for his father. Suddenly the entrance to the kitchen seemed miles away. Gathering his robe together, he slipped back downstairs and replaced the earplugs with his headphones and let his iPod keep him company until it was time to pull out the heavy duty concealer and get ready for school.


	2. Friday Night Plans

Chapter 2 - Friday Night Plans

The next morning, Kurt left for school early, his eyes focused on the floor, saying he had to work on something for Coach Sylvester. He couldn’t even look at his father without wanting to cry, and he hoped he could figure out how to get himself back in control before the end of the school day.

Unfortunately for him, Coach Sylvester had arrived early as well and decided that he could use some one-on-one instruction.

He’d never been so happy for school to start in his life.

That morning, he only got shoved into the lockers once and wasn’t slushied at all - although he suspected it had more to do with fear of defacing his Cheerios uniform than anything else, but he would take what he could get.

He returned to his locker before lunch and saw Finn standing there, looking uncomfortable. Curious, he unlocked and opened his locker. Once he realized that Finn would just stand there all day, shifting from one giant foot to the other, he finally asked, “Are you lost? Your locker’s down there.” He pointed down the hallway.

“Actually,” Finn said, clearing his throat, “I was thinking of having some friends over tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

Shrugging, Kurt switched books. “It’s your room too. Just don’t let them get into my things, especially my spa products. That stuff’s expensive; I have to have it shipped.”

“We were thinking of making it, like, an all night Halo session, so…”

“So you were wondering if I could be somewhere else?” Kurt finished, feeling a small stab of disappointment. It wasn’t as if he wanted to spend an evening with loud, grunting, gaming boys, but it would have been nice to have been invited.

Finn seemed to struggle. “It’s not that I don’t want you - well, it’s not like you enjoy - I mean-”

“It’s fine,” Kurt said, making sure he sounded like the thought of being invited had never even crossed his mind. “Mercedes and I are due for a girls’ evening.”

Finn nodded, exhaling with relief. “Well, I’ll see you later, then.”

Kurt tossed Finn a little smile but couldn’t help calling out, “Have fun at your sleepover.” He waited until Finn flinched before returning his attention to his locker with a smug smile.

Mercedes caught up with him a few minutes later. “Hey, boyfriend!”

Linking his arm with hers, he asked, “What would you think of inviting me over tonight?”

“That would be fun! We haven’t had a spa night in a while.” She paused, leaning back to get a better look at him. “What’s going on?”

Kurt shrugged, trying to look like it didn’t matter. “Finn wants to have a sleepover with his macho friends.”

“And they didn’t invite you?”

“I said, ‘macho friends’.”

“But it’s your house, your room.”

“It’s Finn’s too.”

“I know you want to make sure he feels welcome and all, but the least he could’ve done was invite you.”

“We’ll get our revenge by having a fabulous evening. Maybe we can invite Quinn; she definitely could use a facial, and did you see her nails?” With that question, he managed to turn the conversation to the evening ahead so he could focus on something worthy of his attention.

Besides, this gave him a little more time to regroup before he saw his father again.


	3. Finn’s Sleepover

Chapter 3 - Finn’s Sleepover

Puck was having a great night; so far, he’d managed to kill off Finn, Artie, Matt, and Mike in particularly gruesome ways, and he was thisclose to wiping out Max. He’d been pissed when Finn told him that Kurt had called it a sleepover, like they were five or something, but he did realize that it probably would have just rolled off his back if Hummel hadn’t already pissed him off the day before.

He could still feel the anger, just as fresh as if their conversation had just happened. He wasn’t sure why he was so hot, but he figured he had a right. Hummel hadn’t spoken one word to Bolt, but he’d already judged the guy, and Max was a great guy. Hummel strutted around the school, daring people to judge him, but he had no problems judging someone else. Puck got pissed off all over again every time he thought about the fucking judgmental-

“Gotcha!” Max shouted, jumping to his feet and waving around the controller as everyone watched Puck’s avatar explode on screen.

“Damn!” Puck tossed his controller on to the coffee table in front of the sofa and smiled ruefully at Max. Hummel had just managed to ruin his winning streak without even being in the room. “I’ll get you next time.”

“Yeah, just keep wishing, and maybe one day it’ll come true.”

Matt grabbed a slice of pizza and tossed the empty box on top of the other four that sat on the floor by the stairs. “That’s all that’s left of the pizza.”

“And I’m throwing down the last soda,” Mike said, chugging his drink and crumpling the can, tossing it too on the expanding trash pile by the stairs.

“Then I guess it’s time to break out the big guns,” Max said, sharing a smile with Puck.

“What’cha get?” Artie asked, leaning forward excitedly.

Puck grabbed his backpack from behind the sofa and pulled out two six packs of beer.

“How’d you fit so much in such a small backpack?” Matt asked.

Puck snorted. “Dude. I’m a professional.”

“So,” Max said, wandering around the room. “What’s going on with this room?”

Finn shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. “My mom and I moved in with Kurt and his dad, and Kurt and I have to share a room until Mr. Hummel builds an extension.”

“Kurt, that’s the gay kid?”

“Yeah,” Finn said, shooting glances at the others.

“I’ve seen him around, but I haven’t actually met him yet.” He paused as he picked up something from the top of Kurt’s dresser and returned it to its spot. “He seems cool. One of my best friends at my old school was gay.”

Puck shared a smug glance with Finn. Wait until Puck saw Kurt again; he couldn’t wait to dig in the fact that the big jock was more tolerant than the gay kid.

“So this Santana chick is kind of hot, but in a scary way. Is she seeing anyone?”

“That depends on if you’re including Brittany,” Mike said, laughing with the others.

“She’s like that spider that has sex with another spider and then eats him,” Finn muttered.

“But what a way to go!” Max laughed.

The Santana conversation led them to Brittany and then they proceeded to catch Max up on all of the other female cheerios while they drank beer and played more games.

Puck thought it was a total badass time, and he couldn’t wait to rub everything in Kurt’s face.


	4. Kurt, Meet the Real Max Bolt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where it starts to get scary...

Chapter 4 - Kurt, Meet the Real Max Bolt

Kurt had already changed his outfit after the customary Monday morning dumpster dump and was idly going through his locker, waiting for Mercedes, when a loud slam to his left caught his attention. Turning his head, he caught sight of the new student, Max Bolt.

Great, he thought, mentally rolling his eyes. It’d seemed like all weekend he’d been stalked by both Finn and Puck who’d both delighted in telling him how Max had a good gay friend back at his old school, about how Max hadn’t made any disparaging comments about him at all. Not that either boy would know the word ‘disparaging’; it was more like, as Puck said at one point, “he doesn’t give a fuck that you like sucking dick.”

Never mind that Kurt hadn’t actually sucked one yet, but that was neither here nor there.

After being hounded on Saturday and Sunday - didn’t Puck have a home? - he realized that as much as he loathed the thought, he was wrong, and they were right. He’d taken one look at Max Bolt and decided that the guy was just another homophobic, airheaded jock intent on pushing anyone out of the ordinary out of his way.

Sighing, Kurt plastered on a small smile. “I don’t think we’ve actually been introduced, but we’re in Spanish together. I’m Kurt Hummel.”

“Max,” Max ground out, pulling some books from his locker.

Obviously, Max wasn’t a morning person.

“I heard everyone had a good time Friday night,” Kurt offered, trying to make sure that it was obvious he was trying to be friendly.

After being hounded about how unfair he’d been and how great Max was, Kurt wasn’t prepared when Max suddenly slammed shut his locker and shoved Kurt into the locker between them, his forearm pressed against Kurt’s neck. “Look, fag. I don’t want you looking at me or talking to me. In fact, don’t even think about me."

“B-but Puck and Finn said -

“They’ll believe anything I tell them, so don’t even try crying to them. I’m the golden boy, and you’re just a bitter little homo who didn’t even give the new guy a chance. From now on,” he lowered his arm so that it pressed against Kurt’s chest. He slowly pressed harder until Kurt was afraid his sternum was going to break. Shoving his face close to Kurt’s, staring into his eyes, he said, “I own your gay little ass.”

Just as fast as he got into Kurt’s face, he shoved away and walked down the hallway.

“Hey, gorgeous!” Mercedes shouted a little less than a minute later, walking toward Kurt. “Quinn said that she’ll have a couple of dates for the spa party she missed on Friday. She even says she’ll have it at her house.” Once she got closer, her smile disappeared. “What’s wrong?”

“I-” Kurt could still feel the arm pressing against his chest, could still hear the words, “they’ll believe anything I tell them”, but he looked into Mercedes eyes and knew she’d understand. “Max Bolt,” he started.

“Are you still going on about him?” Mercedes asked, rolling her eyes. “Quinn and I ran into him at the mall on Saturday - you totally should have come, by the way. I found an adorable skirt. But anyway, he treated us to some snacks at the food court. He’s a really good guy; you should give him a chance.”

Closing his eyes, Kurt took a breath and tried to collect himself. “I need to run to the bathroom. I’ll see you in class.”

He stared at himself in the mirror, the larger-than-usual eyes, the red flush to his skin. His heart continued to pound as hard as it had the moment he’d been shoved into the locker, and he knew he had to calm down before he hyperventilated. He smoothed back his hair and closed his eyes when he saw his hand trembling.

Enough, he thought to himself. He’d spent most of his school life being terrorized by bullies. Really, what was one more? So what if this one decided to be sneaky about the whole thing? The guy had been in school for two weeks already, and this was the first time Kurt’d had spoken to him.

It was just the unexpectedness of the whole thing, Kurt decided. He wouldn’t have been this upset if he’d been prepared, but Puck and Finn had given him a reason to lower his guard and to think that Max Bolt would be friendly. No wonder he was so off balance. Taking a deep breath, he looked at himself in the mirror and used the calming techniques he’d taught himself years before. After a few seconds, his heart rate returned to normal, well, closer to normal, and the red spots on his cheeks had dimmed to a light pink. Smoothing his hair back once more, he grabbed his bag and headed for class, telling himself that it was better that he knew where he stood with Max Bolt. Now he was prepared. Ignoring the memory of the hatred he’d seen in his new classmate’s eyes, he repeated to himself, “He’s just another ignorant bully; I can totally handle it.”

It turned out, Kurt had underestimated Max Bolt’s apparent dislike, because the next day, as he was walking to his first class, late again because he’d had to change from the clothes dirtied in the morning’s dirtier than usual dumpster dive, he was grabbed and pulled into one of the empty classrooms. Before he could grasp what was happening to him, he was shoved against the blackboard, the chalk holder digging painfully into his back.

“I’m not a fan of repeating myself, so I’m only going to tell you this once. Tonight, you’re going to sneak out of your house at 1:30 and meet me around the corner.”

More sliding around his fear than tamping it down, Kurt glared at Max Bolt. “Why don’t you hold your breath until I get there?”

Max pulled Kurt away from the wall and slammed him back against it, hard. He brought his face so close to Kurt’s that Kurt could see the anger in his eyes. The brief question of what Kurt had done to make this guy hate him so much passed through his brain before he got distracted by Max slamming him against the chalkboard for a third time. Kurt couldn’t muffle the small groan of pain as his back protested the treatment.

“What did I say?” Max whispered.

“I’m not going to meet you, so you might as well just beat me up now.” Kurt wasn’t brave, but he also wasn’t stupid. He couldn’t think of a single way this bully was going to get him to sneak out of his house and go who knows where with such an evil person.

The slow smile that spread over Max’s face made Kurt’s heart pause, then race. He’d been afraid when Azimio and Karofsky had cornered him, and he’d had moments of anger when slushied or thrown in the dumpster, but he’d never felt terrified, as he did at that moment.

“I’m not going to beat you up,” Max said. “That’s too easy.”

“I guess you’re out of luck then,” Kurt snapped. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“Fine,” Max said calmly, releasing Kurt.

Kurt remained, silent, hand on his back, waiting for whatever else the bully had planned, and he wasn’t disappointed.

“I guess I’ll just see how Mercedes is doing. She’s been having car trouble, you know. I’ve given her rides home. Maybe I’ll give her a ride home today, but maybe she won’t make it there. Maybe your little BFF will just disappear.”

“Right,” Kurt said, rolling his eyes, trying to appear unfazed, despite the way his heart pounded so hard that he could feel it in his temples. He wanted to scream at Max, maybe punch him, but he knew it would only give the bully more ammunition, and he knew it wouldn’t even remotely hurt the guy.

“She’s pretty hot too, for a black chick. She’s pretty feisty too. I bet she’s a total tiger in the sack.”

Kurt felt his eyes narrow, and he almost shoved his entire body at Max before a stray thought reminded him that as much as Mercedes might like Max, she didn’t like him in that way, and she’d totally take him out if he tried anything. Max Bolt was just trying to find his weak link; little did he know that Mercedes was anything but weak. He deliberately turned his frown into a smirk. “Go ahead. Try it. They’ll have to rush you into surgery to pull your testicles out of your throat by the time she got through with you.”

Max raised his eyebrows. “You don’t think I’d really hurt your girl? Next time you’re on your computer, look up Josh Fedderman from Copper Harbor, Michigan. "That's Fedderman with two d's.” He opened the door and turned back to Kurt. “I’ll see you at 1:30.”

Kurt took a deep breath after Max Bolt left, his lungs feeling like he’d been holding it the entire time. Picking up his bag with shaking hands, Kurt fixed his hair and let himself out of the room.

“Hey, there!” Mercedes said. “You better hurry up; we’re almost late for class.” She stared at him hard for a moment. “You okay? Why were you in there?”

Kurt wanted to grab hold of Mercedes and make her promise to stay far, far away from Max Bolt. He shook his head to clear it and tried to smile. “The bathrooms can be so crowded between classes, and my hair desperately needed some help.”

Mercedes seemed to buy the lie and wrapped her arm around his. “You look fabulous as always.”

“Thank you, darling.”

Kurt used his lunch period to go to the library and do a little research, and what he found had his heart pounding even harder than it had in the classroom with Max Bolt. He read the newspaper reports of the sixteen year old Josh Fedderman who had disappeared two months into the school year, how his classmates had said that he was different (the word gay wasn’t mentioned, but all the right words around it were there) but that he didn’t really bother anyone, about how his disappearance really rocked the small community. He found an article where Max had been interviewed. The reporter seemed to believe him when he said what a great guy Josh was and how he hoped Josh was okay.

Eyebrow raised as he read, Kurt knew he had seen Max’s innocent expression and could picture the entire thing.

The articles became fewer and fewer until they stopped all together. After more searches, Kurt determined that Josh’s body had never been found.

Pushing away from the table, Kurt wondered if Max were really the one who’d done this terrible thing. He knew all about bullies and could believe that Max could hurt someone - badly. But this sounded like Josh Fedderman was dead and buried somewhere. Was Max Bolt capable of murder?


	5. Party At Quinn’s

Chapter 5 - Party At Quinn’s

After a heavily intense lunch a week later involving calendars and datebooks, the postponed sleepover at Mercedes’ morphed into spa night over at Quinn’s, something that was happening more often because they could multitask, taking care of Beth while moisterising and gossiping.

To everyone’s surprise, Beth and Kurt had taken one look at each other and fallen in love (“Who knew Kurt would ever fall in love with a girl,” Mercedes laughed), and she seemed to know when he was in the house, fussing until he held her. Many times she'd fall asleep in his arms, bottle dangling halfway out of her mouth.

After glee, they piled into the kitchen, all gossiping a mile a minute as Quinn went into the refrigerator and grabbed their usual drinks, soda for Mercedes and Tina, waters for her and Kurt, some of Sue Sylvestor's special, chilled, for Brittany and Santana.

Quinn's mom walked in with the baby, who shrieked around her bottle and automatically leaned toward Kurt, who took her without a break in his story. He ignored the smile Quinn and her mom shared as everyone said hello to Mrs. Fabray and climbed the stairs to Quinn's room. "… and I’m fairly sure that in that outfit, Rachel could be seen on the moon with the naked eye," Kurt finished as he tucked Beth in one arm and headed toward the bookshelf where he kept spare spa supplies so he didn't have to keep lugging all of the stuff to her house, because "Coach Sylvester gives me enough of a work out; I don't need any more help, thank you very much."

“That’s mean,” Mercedes laughed, taking a washcloth from Quinn, who had rinsed some out in her bathroom.

“I’m sorry. I just think dressing like a bird is going to land on either shoulder and sing with you is ridiculous in a high school student who is not a cartoon character.”

“I don’t look directly at her,” Brittany said. “I stare to her left so I won’t go blind.”

“That’s why she called you cross eyed,” Mercedes muttered, finally understanding the reference.

“Santana, you and Brittany take turns applying each other’s masks. Mercedes and Quinn, you do the same,” Kurt directed, adjusting the baby in his arms and lifting her bottle a little higher.

The next few minutes were spent applying masks while Kurt supervised and fed Beth. Every so often, he’d turn to the baby say things like, “You’re right, Beth. Your mommy’s going to look like a patchwork quilt if Merecedes doesn’t distribute that mask evenly,” and “Brittany, you’re supposed to be covering Santana’s face, not drawing pictures on it.”

As he watched them finish, he saw that Beth had finished her bottle and was halfway asleep. "No you don't," he said softly, gently pulling the bottle away from her mouth and placing it on one of Quinn's tables. "The last time you fell asleep before I burped you, you blew chunks all over me." It hadn’t really bothered him as much as he’d have thought. Sure, he hadn’t been wearing one of his McQueen dry clean only sweaters, but he hadn’t thought to bring a change of clothes with him and had ended up with a large shirt Quinn’s dad had left at the house. It had totally ruined his ensemble.

He grabbed one of the burping blankets Quinn kept beside her bed and gently draped it over himself before adjusting Beth against his shoulder. Kicking off his shoes, he climbed onto Quinn's bed, his back against the headboard. Gently patting Beth's back, he continued to talk in his animated, but quiet, conversational tone until he heard a loud, unladylike burp explode from the baby. Rolling his eyes, Kurt muttered, "Puck would be so proud.”

Laughing, the girls went into the bathroom to wash the masks from their faces and returned to find Kurt and the baby fast asleep on the bed, Kurt's arms loosely wrapped around the baby.

"My boy looks so tired lately," Mercedes said worriedly. "He won't tell me what's wrong, just says that he's not sleeping well."

“Do you think he knows that the concealer he uses to hide those dark circles underneath his eyes tends to wear off before the end of glee practice?”

“You should see him after Cheerios,” Santana said to Quinn. “He looks like an albino owl or something.”

“Owls don’t have dark circles under their eyes, do they?” Mercedes asked, momentarily distracted.

“I wanted a pet owl when I was young,” Brittany said. “I was going to name him Smoky.” She noticed everyone staring at her and explained, “you know, ‘give a hoot, help prevent forest fires.”

“That’s ‘give a hoot, don’t pollute,” Quinn corrected.

“And Smoky the bear is the one who wants us to help prevent the fires,” Mercedes said.

Brittany rolled her eyes. “Obviously, the owl is just pretending to be a bear so he doesn’t get into trouble for taking all the jobs.”

The other girls looked at each other for a second before shrugging and changing the subject.

“Why don’t we go downstairs and watch a movie,” Quinn suggested. “That way the two sleeping beauties can get some rest.”

They quickly cleaned up and headed down the stairs, arguing over which movie to watch.


	6. The Interventions

Chapter 6 - The Interventions

The next few weeks were the toughest of Kurt’s life. He was used to balancing, only revealing whatever cards he wanted to whatever person he had in front of him, but everything was starting to stretch thin.

He was exhausted and stressed all the time. Max had him sneaking out of the house around 1:30 almost every night, with the degredation and humiliation lasting until four or five, giving him about an hour of sleep before he had to be up for school on the weekdays. The weekends, he tried to get in a few more hours sleep before helping his dad at the shop. He ignored the looks he was getting from his dad, Finn, and Finn’s mom and just concentrated on making sure his hands were as still as he could make them, his breathing even.

He didn’t have the energy to hang out with the girls anymore; he just couldn’t do it. He knew they were disappointed, and he’d been having a really tough time dodging the questions in Mercedes’ eyes, but he’d managed so far.

His grades were slipping, but his classes weren’t that tough, so he figured he was only down to about a B. He knew the information; he just had a rough time finding the energy to do the homework. He’d also been falling asleep in class, but he’d found something at the drug store that he hoped might help with that.

Sometimes he’d head to Mercedes’ locker and watch Max Bolt flirt with her, making her giggle, before giving Kurt that look, that I-can-do-whatever-I-want-to-her,-and-there’s-nothing-you-could-do-about-it look. It took everything Kurt had not to grab Mercedes and pull her away from such evil, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good.

Glee, the one place where he knew Max couldn’t get to him, had turned into the biggest trial of all. Just hearing Rachel’s voice made him want to shove her head inside the piano and slam down the top - hard. He had to sit on his hands to keep them from wrapping around Brittany’s neck whenever she made one of her inane comments.

The worst thing of all was that he couldn’t release any of his feelings through music, something that had always helped him achieve balance. If he were upset, he could sing it out, feel that release. But he knew that if he even let one bit of emotion seep through, that crack would widen until he ended up a sobbing mess on the choir room floor, and that could never, ever happen.

After a glee rehearsal, when he’d sung yet another unemotional song, Mr. Schue asked him to stay afterwards.

“Kurt, I’ve noticed that your choices have become a lot less… emotionally involved lately.”

“Really?” Kurt had remained in his seat, legs crossed while everyone left. Now he sat on his hands and concentrated on breathing evenly. He found it helped him from just standing up and screaming until all of the energy left his body.

“You’ve also been looking slightly less than your usual fastidious self.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” Kurt felt his chin rise defensively at the flat-out lie, but he just kept breathing slowly. He knew his skin care regime had suffered, that the concealer he’d been using to hide the circles under his eyes wasn’t getting the job done anymore, that his hair… he didn’t even like to dwell on his hair.

“I was wondering if you were having problems, maybe needed to talk?”

“That’s very sweet, Mr. Schue,” Kurt said, uncrossing his legs and reaching down for his bag, “but I’m fine. I’ve just been having some trouble sleeping lately; maybe it’s the change in the weather. I’ll be fine.” He stood and tried to give his teacher a small, tight-lipped smile. “I appreciate your concern.”

“I’m here if you ever need to talk.”

Kurt nodded, swallowing around the lump in his throat as he turned and left the room. He slowly walked toward his locker, sensing something ahead. Looking up, he saw Puck, Finn, Santana, Brittany, and Max Bolt all laughing. Max blinked, his eyes focusing on Kurt’s for just a second - just long enough - before he turned back to the others, the look of hatred morphing instantly back into one of mirth.

How did he do that? Kurt wondered, taking a shuddering breath and adjusting his grip on his bag.

Mercedes was waiting for him at his locker. “What did Mr. Schue want?”

“He was just concerned,” Kurt said, not ready to have the same conversation with his best friend.

“I have to admit that I’m a little worried too,” Mercedes said. “You’ve been getting those stress pimples.”

Horrified, Kurt glared at her. “It’s not necessary to expound on that train of thought, Mercedes.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that your clothes have been a bit wrinkled, and your hair - “

Kurt slammed his locker shut. “If I’m such an embarrassment, it’s a wonder you want to be seen with me at all. Let’s just take care of that right now!” He turned and walked away, closing his eyes momentarily as he heard the small hurt sound she made. Steadying himself, he concentrated on moving forward and breathing, in, out, in, out.

All Kurt wanted to do when he got home was hide in his room and sneak in some sleep, but his father had decided that the lack of family dinners was going to stop. He’d left a note on the front door that was pure Burt Hummel:

“Family Dinner - 6pm sharp. I’m bringing Chinese.”

Kurt set his alarm and napped for about an hour before dragging himself up and sitting in front of his mirror, trying to hide all of the proof that things weren’t going well - the pimples Mercedes just had to mention, the shadows under his eyes, and - oh help! - the frizzy hair. It had gotten all out of control, and the shaky hands didn’t really make anything easier, but he did the best he could and was slowly climbing the stairs at six o’clock.

Finn, Carole, and his dad sat at one end of the table, obviously waiting for him. The looks on their faces made him realize that he was going to have to sit through his third intervention of the day, and frankly, he just didn’t think he had the energy. But he sat down anyway, because there was nowhere he could go that they couldn’t follow.

Silence reigned as they passed the cartons of Chinese food, and Kurt only took a little bit. What little appetite he normally had had disappeared when Max had taken over his life, and he supposed losing those extra pounds was the one benefit he’d reaped from the whole thing. He looked down at the meager portions on his plate, hoping he could keep it all down, at least long enough to return to his room without raising any additional suspicion. The last thing he needed them to see was his running yet again for the bathroom, something he’d been managing to hide quite well, he thought. But then again, taking a pass on lunch really helped at school.

They were about finished when his dad cleared his voice. “Kurt, I’ve - we’ve noticed that you haven’t really been yourself lately.”

“I’m just tired,” Kurt said quietly, hoping to keep the conversation from turning into the energy-sucking emotional affair he’d braced himself for when he’d first stepped into the room.

“You don’t seem to be getting enough rest,” Carole said in that simpering tone of hers.

“I said I’m tired.” Kurt knew he was being rude, but really, didn’t being tired kind of explain the whole no-rest thing? What a dumb comment to make.

“Kurt!” His dad said reprovingly.

“Sorry,” Kurt said automatically, but they all knew he didn’t mean it. “Like I said, I’m tired. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I don’t know why, because it seems like all you’ve been doing is sleeping,” Finn said.

Kurt sighed. Did stupidity run rampant in the Hudson household or what? “I didn’t say I wasn’t sleeping; I said I wasn’t sleeping well.”

“Then we need to get you to the doctor, figure out what’s going on,” Kurt’s dad said. “You’ve always been thin, but now you’re looking like one strong wind’s going to blow you away.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Kurt muttered.

“Not really,” his dad said.

“Your clothes are usually really tight, but now everything’s all.. loose.”

“Thank you for noticing,” Kurt said a little snidely, gratified to see Finn blush.

He knew he wasn’t being fair, but he was doing the best he could. He was just trying to make it through one day at a time, and while he knew it wasn’t their fault, their little confrontations were making things so much harder for him. When he looked at them, all he could see were people who were doing nothing to help him, and he just wanted to hurt them, to make them feel the way he felt all the time. It wasn’t fair since they didn’t know anything about his situation with Max, he knew that, but it didn’t stop the anger rising inside him. It didn’t stop the fear.

“I’m sure it’ll get better soon,” Kurt lied. “I have a lot of homework, so I better get started. Thanks for dinner.” He slid his chair back, grabbed his dishes, and put them into the sink in the kitchen before he practically raced downstairs and headed straight for the bathroom.

Eventually, Finn came down, standing awkwardly in the middle of the room until he finally realized that Kurt was going to continue to ignore him. Sighing, he walked to his bed and pulled out his own homework.

Kurt wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep, but his phone woke him at 1:25am. He climbed out of bed, used the bathroom and washed his face, and slipped out of the window to meet Max.

Later that morning at school, he was cornered by Tina, Rachel, and Artie of all people, in the ladies restroom as he cleaned himself up from Azimio’s slushie. At first, Kurt had tried to be nice, but his temper only needed the merest spark to flare lately, and pretty quickly he became merciless. The conversation hadn’t lasted long, and the end result had Tina sobbing, Artie’s shoulders slumped over, and Rachel flipping her hair and shaking her head defiantly.

At least he was left alone for a few minutes.

Santana, Mike, and Matt took turns saying a few words here and there, but he easily dismissed them. They never really spoke to him anyway, so he wasn’t too worried about them. Besides, they were tough enough to handle whatever he had to say, so he just said whatever came to mind, forgetting the conversations as soon as he walked away.

Quinn walked up to him, and he arched an eyebrow at her. He knew she didn’t really want to go there with him.

After a pause, she said quietly, “Fine, be a bitch.”

“Takes one to know one,” he returned before they walked in opposite directions down the hall.

Brittany sat next to him in his AP Literature section and was the first to actually surprise him. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” she said, smiling at him.

“But you aren’t even in this class,” he reminded her.

“I’m visiting. It’s like when you go over to someone’s house.”

“Actually, it’s not.”

The rest of the conversation continued in a bizarre loop until Kurt finally exploded and said some hurtful things that sent Brittany sniffling and apologizing out of the room. It also got Kurt after-school detention for disrupting the class, but whatever. That meant he could cut glee practice, which was the one place he really didn’t want to go to anyway. He’d catch hell from Coach Sylvester for missing Cheerios practice, but she didn’t really scare him anymore. He’d met the devil, and Coach Sylvester didn’t even make it into the room.


	7. Puck’s Turn

Chapter 7 - Puck’s Turn

Puck wasn’t sure how he’d gotten detention this time, but he was reasonably certain it wasn’t his fault. He wasn’t about to fight it, though, because he knew that they liked to put him in it every so often because they just knew that he’d done something to deserve it at some point; they just hadn’t caught him at it. And, they were probably right. He did hate missing glee practice, but sometimes they were still at it when he got out, so he could catch the tail end.

He was surprised to find Kurt there when he walked in, though.

The gleeks had been whispering to each other lately about him, and he did look pretty terrible. Puck wasn’t one for noticing another dude, but there was no way he could miss Hummel’s downslide, the dark circles under his eyes, the way he didn’t even bother to do that annoying thing where he swept his perfectly kept hair out of his face.

Even the jocks didn’t have much fun messing with him anymore. They said that he just shrugged when they threw him in the dumpsters, barely reacted when slushied. They just seemed to be doing it now out of habit.

Puck was just about to walk into the classroom when he saw Santana bearing down on him like she was going to lodge his ‘nads up around his throat.

“What?” He asked, backing up. He might be a badass, but he wasn’t stupid. Or suicidal. Frantically, he tried to think of what he could have done to piss her off so badly.

“Where’s Hummel? I’m going to crush his head with my bare thighs!”

Normally, Puck would have taken a moment to picture something like that, but instead, he grabbed her by the waist as she lunged toward the room.

“What’d he do?”

“He made Brittany cry,” Santana huffed, still struggling.

“No way,” Puck said, gently pushing Santana until her back was against the opposite wall. “Hummel’s not that mean - or that stupid.”

“She told me,” Santana growled. “She’s sitting in the choir room now with snot everywhere.”

“Look. Let me deal with it,” Puck said, wondering why these words were coming out of his mouth.

“No way. He’s mine!”

Shaking her shoulders a bit, he tried to divert her attention. “Brittany needs you right now. She’s all crying and shit, right?”

“Artie distracted her with a balloon, so she’s a little better,” Santana admitted.

“She needs you with her. Leave Hummel to me.” He sighed when she gave him her dubious look. “You know how creative I can be. Let me work.”

“Fine,” Santana growled, “but I want to see some bruises, maybe some blood.”

Shaking his head, Puck said, “Physical torture’s fun, but psychological torture’s so much more effective.” He ignored Santana’s surprised expression - he stifled the urge to tell her that yes, he knew what psychological torture was - and turned her back in the direction she came. “Go back to your girl. I got this.” He swatted her on the butt, and she gave him a coy look as she darted back down the hallway.

Puck looked back at Hummel, shifting in his seat in the classroom, totally oblivious to the fact that by all rights, he should be lying on the floor bleeding from at least three different holes in his body. Strolling in, he dropped in the chair beside the kid and opened his mangled notebook. Pulling out the pen he kept behind his ear, he started doodling in his book. He could feel Hummel looking at him, first with furtive glances as he shifted to get comfortable, then with longer stares once he realized he was being ignored. If there were one thing that Hummel hated, it was being ignored, Puck thought, smiling inwardly.

One of the math teachers, Puck forgot her name, came in and settled behind the desk. Guess she drew the short straw, Puck thought, as he watched her glare at everyone before putting earbuds in her ears and turning on her iPod. She pulled out a magazine from her briefcase and proceeded to ignore them pretty much like Puck was ignoring Hummel.

After about fifteen minutes, Puck muttered, “You know, you’re a dead man.”

Hummel stilled, a non-movement so quick, that it made Puck blink. “What?” The fear in that one word startled Puck. No matter what the threat or who made it, Hummel could be relied upon to make some sort of derogatory comment engorged with condescension. His reaction puzzled Puck.

“Santana was outside ready to pull that pale ass skin off your body for making Brittany cry.”

Hummel sighed, shifted, didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I didn’t mean to upset her. She just - I need to be left alone. No one will leave me alone.”

They didn’t say anything for a while, each just staring into space. Puck thought about how the winter sucked for his pool business and about how little action he’d been getting lately. What worried him more was the fact that it didn’t bother him nearly as much as he thought it should. He got distracted by that for a while until Hummel shifted uncomfortably beside him, and he realized that the kid had barely sat still the entire time.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?”

“What?” Hummel asked, “is it so wrong to want to be left alone?”

“No,” Puck muttered. “Your ass hasn’t been still since I sat down. You gotta pee or something?” He felt Hummel roll his eyes and had to stop a smile from spreading on his face. He’d forgotten how much enjoyment could be had by pissing off the kid. “Then what’s the problem?”

Hummel paused, then said, “Nothing.” Which meant that it was something but something he wasn’t about to share with Puck.

Puck thought that was fair, especially since he didn’t really care about that anyway. “So what’s going on with you?”

“Seriously? You too? I thought that out of everyone, you’d be the one who would leave me alone.”

“Why is that?”

“Because you don’t care.”

“True,” Puck admitted, but he realized that it wasn’t true. While he wasn’t interested in becoming buds with Hummel, he did care about what was happening. Glee was suffering without Hummel’s presence. Sure, he was there physically, but he didn’t pitch in with his smartass comments, and he wasn’t doing his part to keep Rachel’s ego down to a more manageable level. He said as much to Kurt.

“I’m just… I’m just working things out,” Hummel said.

“What kind of shit are you working out? You got some sort of side job or something? You pole dancing nights at the Pooty-Tang out by the airport?”

He caught a slight smile in the corner of Hummel’s mouth. “As if,” he said, a small glimpse of the Hummel Puck remembered showing through the shadow he’d become.

“Then what’s the problem? They stop making your hair gel or something, because I’m not into that, but even I can tell that you’re looking pretty crappy lately.”

“Why does everyone have to point out the ha-” Kurt started, then took a deep breath. “Just leave me alone, Puck.”

“Mmm,” Puck hummed, pretending to consider it before saying, “Nope.”

“Seriously?” Kurt’s voice rose a bit as he turned to glare at Puck.

The math teacher looked up, causing Kurt to relax again in his seat.

“Shhh,” Puck said to him, smiling innocently at the math teacher, who glared at him suspiciously before returning her attention to her magazine.

“Don’t you have other people to torture?”

Puck looked around at the other three people in the classroom. “Not really.”

The timer on the teacher’s desk rang, and Puck stood, stretching. “Wanna go get a burger? No offense, but you could totally use the calories. You look like a lone turd dangling from a dog’s ass.”

“Nice,” Kurt sneered. “Why would I want to sit across from a guy who gets his best friend’s girlfriend pregnant and then pretends it’s not his?”

Puck felt the blood drain from his face, and he ignored the others practically running for the door. “What did you just say to me?”

“Getting oil underneath my fingers seems a much better use of my time than spending it with yet another Lima loser.” With that, Hummel swept out of the room, leaving Puck standing alone, trying to regain his equilibrium.

Watching Hummel’s huddled body in the desk earlier, he’d thought the kid had lost all his fight, but he should have known better. Someone like that wouldn’t have sent pretty much all of glee into tears in the past two days. Puck should have been prepared.

But Puck wasn’t like all the others. Pissed, he dug his keys out of the front pocket of his jeans and stomped to his truck. He totally knew where Hummel was headed, and he wasn’t finished with the conversation. The others might have slinked away, tails tucked between their legs, but what Puck had between his legs didn’t leave any space for anything else, he thought smugly. Hopping into his truck, he headed toward Hummel Auto and Tires, smiling grimly when he saw the Navigator in the side parking lot. Pulling in beside Hummel’s car, he hopped out and wandered into the office.

Hummel’s dad looked up from behind the counter and eyeballed Puck curiously. “Help you?”

“I’m looking for Hu-Kurt,” Puck said. “He was supposed to give me an assignment, but I missed him at school.”

It was obvious that the man didn’t believe Puck, but what was he going to do, stand in the way of Puck’s education? Puck gave him one of his patented “I’m harmless” smiles, and the man sighed and pointed. “He’s in the locker room.”

“Thanks,” Puck said and headed to the door marked, “Employees only”.

Opening the door, he said loudly, “So I wasn’t finished.” He stopped when Hummel turned around, shirt off, coveralls hanging off his hips.

Multicolored bruises ran all over Hummel’s back, spreading around the the front, covering his chest and stomach. From what Puck could see, it looked like they ran down past Hummel’s coveralls. “What the fuck?”

Hummel quickly pulled on a t-shirt before sliding his arms into his coveralls and zipping it up, practically running past Puck to close the door. “You didn’t see anything.”

“The fuck I didn’t!” Puck yelled. “Who did that to you?”

Kurt stood in front of Puck, fear in every part of his body. His eyes screamed it, his red face, the shaky, jerky movements of his arms; his body practically vibrated with it. “I’m handling it, okay? Just let me handle it!”

“Did your dad do this?”

Kurt blinked for a minute. “Dad? No! Look, please just let me handle it! Promise you won’t tell anyone! Promise!” Kurt’s breaths came out quickly, too quickly, as he began to gasp for breath, his hands pulling at Puck’s jacket. “Prom- ise!”

“Calm down!” Puck said, starting to get scared himself.

“Promise-you-won’t-say-any… any,” Kurt’s breaths came out in loud, painful gasps.

“I’ll promise if you just calm down!” Puck said, pulling Kurt into a loose hug. “You need to breathe!” He took a deep breath himself, trying to calm down. “Breathe,” he said, quieter now, rubbing slowly down Kurt’s back. “You need to breathe.”

Slowly Kurt’s gasps quieted until he only gave a little shuddery sob at after every few breaths. Eventually, he straightened, and Puck let his arms drop.

Kurt stepped away, his face low, and Puck found himself stooping to catch his eyes. “Better?”

Kurt nodded, his face still downcast.

“Ready to talk about it?”

That comment shot’s Kurt’s eyes up to lock with his. “No! I don’t want to talk about it. I’m handling it.”

“You keep saying that,” Puck said, backing up until he was leaning against the door. Even though he didn’t know what was going on, he felt that being in Kurt’s space wasn’t what the guy needed, “but I’m having a hard time buying that, what with all the bruises and all.”

“I just need more time,” Kurt muttered, turning back to his locker and taking out some black boots. He sat down on a bench, shoving his feet - it was strange seeing Hummel wearing normal, white socks - into them. He grabbed the laces, but his hands were shaking too hard to actually do anything but hold them.

“Shit,” Puck said, disgusted. He saw Kurt recoil, and he wanted to say that he was pissed at the situation, not at Hummel himself. Instead he walked over, kneeled, and tied Hummel’s shoes. His head bent over, he said, “I know I’m not the smartest guy on the block, but I’m thinking that the weight loss, no sleep, and limp hair have something to do with all this.”

After he finished, he leaned back to watch Hummel’s face. Kurt just stared back at him, and he sighed.

“Right. You’re handling it.” He stood and sat beside Hummel on the bench.

“Thanks,” Kurt said, balling his hands into fists and breathing until his hands became steady. He rose and walked to the door, stopping to look back at Puck. “Just- just don’t tell anyone, okay?” Kurt whispered.

“I promised,” Puck said, disgusted with himself. Standing, he followed Kurt out of the room. Without a look back, he walked past Hummel Senior and slammed into his truck, pissed beyond reason.

Puck lied, Puck cheated, but one thing that Puck had always held sacred was a promise. Damnit. This meant that Puck was going to have to find out what was going on himself.

Being sneaky didn’t come naturally to him, which was why he’d been so surprised his history with Quinn taken as long as it had to come out. He preferred to just lay everything out on the table; it made things a little easier. But this time, he was going to have to watch. And pay attention. To Kurt Hummel.

Shit.


	8. Puck’s Investigation

Chapter 8 - Puck’s Investigation

Puck arrived early the next day at school, huddling in his jacket in the teacher’s parking lot, steaming up his window like he was making out with someone instead of trying to see when Kurt arrived. He sighed, thinking about how welcome he’d find a warm body to rub up against, when he saw Kurt pull up finally.

Kurt climbed out of his car, looking furtively around himself as he grabbed his bag and walked to the doors. Puck slid out of the truck and followed, slowing down and watching as the basketball team dumped Kurt in the dumpster and walked away, practically yawning. It took an extraordinary amount of time for Kurt to finally pull himself out of the dumpster, with a grace and a surprising amount of upper body strength. Puck thought back to the previous day, but all he could remember noticing about Kurt’s upper body were the bruises that covered him from the chest and upper back all the way down to where they disappeared underneath the coveralls bunched at his waist.

Kurt dusted off his clothes, checking for stains, but his movements were slow, awkward. He grabbed his bag and, after looking around, headed for the front doors.

Puck followed Kurt around the school, watching as he dodged the glee club members, who seemed perfectly fine with pretending not to notice him. But they didn’t seem to be the ones he kept looking for, afraid to see.

A group of football players, Max, Finn, Mike, and Matt included, headed toward Kurt, and Puck saw it - the fear that lit up his face as he tilted his head down and tried to turn away.

The guys were heading toward Puck, and he saw the confusion on the glee members' faces as they passed him. Max reached out and patted Kurt’s shoulder, but Kurt tried to press himself away from it. Puck rolled his eyes; it seemed Kurt was still not interested in making friends with Bolt.

Puck hoped the teachers didn’t spend their time talking between classes, or Miss Pillsbury was going to make him come to her office and give him a pamphlet about the various reasons why a guy was plagued with the need to urinate frequently, but asking to go to the bathroom about five minutes before the end of every class was the only way he could work out how to get to Kurt’s classrooms before Kurt left. The fact that he had to go to class at all instead of being able to drop in and out of the nurse’s office was annoying enough as it was.

Figuring that lunch was the one time he didn’t have to worry about, he headed to the cafeteria, only to realize after about ten minutes that Kurt wasn’t going to show up. He looked at the gleek table and realized that they hadn’t even kept an empty seat for him. 

Pissed off, he stomped over to them, taking a little pleasure in watching them shrink subtlely away from his looming, badass presence. “Where’s Hummel?”

They all looked away from him.

Sighing, he tried another question. “How long has it been since he’s eaten lunch with any of you?”

Her interest piqued, Mercedes said, “About two weeks ago he stopped eating with us everyday, but we haven’t seen him here since about Friday.”

Shaking his head, disgusted, Puck simply walked away. He knew he had no reason to be angry with them; they’d simply protected themselves when Kurt had closed himself off. If what he’d said to them was even half as rude as what he’d shouted to Puck, then they were justified in staying away from him. But still, if Puck could see that something was going on, and Puck rarely spent any time with Hummel, then why couldn’t one of Kurt’s close friends have pushed until they found out that Kurt was in some kind of trouble?

He never managed to learn where Hummel hid out during lunch, so he returned to the cafeteria and ate with the rest of the football team, only halfway paying attention to Max Bolt’s funny stories.

After that, he’d had a tough time tracking Hummel down. He’d just about given up for the day when he saw Kurt suddenly jerked into the classroom they used for those retar - wait, he was supposed to call them something else, but shit, he couldn’t remember what - who only came to school in the mornings. He couldn’t even use the “r” word anymore without feeling guilty after getting to know Becky. He pulled his mind back to the matter at hand, that classroom in front of him that was empty except for Kurt and at least the person who’d pulled him inside.

Puck’s first instinct was to race inside the room and see what was happening, but he stopped. He wasn’t sure what he was going to find if he walked through that door. What if there were more than one guy? Being a badass didn’t mean he was stupid.  
As much as he wished he didn’t, Puck knew Kurt well enough to know that the kid wouldn’t have become a victim without a damn good reason. So he stayed back and waited for Kurt and whoever pulled him in there to come back out.

After about three or four minutes, the door opened, and Max Bolt walked out.

“What the fuck?” Puck mouthed, watching Max turn back inside the room, point, and say, “tonight” before he walked down the hallway away from Puck.

Puck only had to wait a few seconds before Kurt came out, visibly scared. His body jerking awkwardly, like he was coming off a seizure, his cheeks flushed, his breathing more like the previous day when Puck had spotted the bruises. He took a few deep breaths, slung his bag over his shoulder, and walked away from Puck, turning the corner fairly quickly, head lowered.

Puck leaned back against the wall, trying to grasp what he’d just seen. Max was a great guy. He had a gay friend back in his old hometown. Why would he choose to torture Kurt, and why would Kurt, the one Puck would vote least like a victim in the entire school - after himself, of course - let him hurt him like that?

It was almost too much for Puck to wrap his head around - Max not who he was pretending to be? How could Puck not see it?

Maybe Puck totally misunderstood what he saw. He hadn’t been in the room, and he hadn’t heard any kinds of strange noises coming from there. Maybe it just wasn’t what he thought… But then Puck remembered how Kurt looked when he left the room, and Puck knew - he just knew - he had it figured out.

The question now was what could Puck do about it? He’d promised not to tell anyone, so he was on his own.

And what the hell was happening tonight?


	9. Recon

Chapter 9 - Recon

It was pathetically easy to get an invite to Finn’s house, even on a Thursday night; the complicated part involved making sure that no one else came along while still allowing Kurt to remain. Citing a way-gayer-sounding-than-he’d-hoped excuse that they never really hung out anymore, just the two of them, Puck persuaded Finn not to invite anyone else. Then he just kept Finn’s mind off the fact that Kurt was going to be there until it was too late for Kurt to make other plans.

“Dude, I’m sorry that I forgot to tell Kurt about this,” Finn said quietly as they walked into the house.

“Don’t worry about it,” Puck told him, for, like, the thirtieth time. “He’s so small that we probably won’t even notice him here.”

Finn grinned at him, and they headed into the kitchen. “Kurt and his dad go out for dinner on Friday nights, and mom and I just kind of do what we want.” He shrugged. “Kurt’s a really good cook, and he makes more than enough so we can just kind of snack in between meals. I thought we could just grab some stuff and drinks and play Halo until Kurt comes home… or until we pass out.”

It sounded good to Puck, so they piled food onto plates, nuked everything, grabbed drinks and stomped downstairs. Within fifteen minutes of walking through the door, they were engaged in war in between bites of holy-shit-Finn-wasn’t-kidding-about-Kurt’s-leftovers.

In between kicking Finn’s ass yet again, Puck managed to slip in a few questions and learned that while Kurt did sleep, he wasn’t sleeping well; that distinction was very important to Finn for some reason.

Eventually, Kurt slid downstairs - and that’s what it seemed like, because he made absolutely no noise - and put on his iPod; after a worried glance at Puck, he proceeded to ignore them.

While he absolutely decimated Finn, really the guy couldn’t play for shit, Puck kept an eye on Kurt, who fell asleep minutes after starting his homework and hadn’t roused since. That kind of deep sleep should have made Kurt totally rested.

About ten o’clock, Kurt’s dad came downstairs and after a worried look at Kurt, told them that it was time to bring it down a notch, since “some people have to work tomorrow”. He said it with a smile, though, so Finn and Puck turned off the game and got ready for bed.

Puck always slept on the floor when he stayed over, and he grabbed the blankets Finn had pulled out for him and made himself a make-shift bed. He’d tossed back a few caffeine pills he’d bought at the gas station and folded his arms above his head, ready to wait. The pills sucked, though, and he almost missed the small, furtive sounds Kurt made around Finn’s heavy snores. Puck watched Kurt slowly open a window he’d had to climb on a bookshelf to reach, shutting his eyes quickly when Kurt looked over at him, and opening them just in time to see Kurt’s last leg disappear.

Tossing off the covers, Puck grabbed the wallet and keys he’d stashed beside himself on the floor, slid his feet into his sneakers, and quietly traced Kurt’s path out of the window. He watched Kurt scamper across the yard and get into a car parked down the block. Waiting until the car had passed, Puck ran to his truck and jumped in, hoping Finn’s mom and Kurt’s dad slept hard enough not to notice the sound of his engine.

Tailing a car at 1:30 in the morning in Lima was a big pain in the ass. There wasn’t any traffic, so Puck couldn’t really hide in plain sight. Plus, his truck was pretty distinctive. He tried to drive without his headlights, but he also had to keep an eye out for cops, who would probably assume he’d been drinking to be driving like that. Eventually, he figured out that they were heading to this shack outside of town where Max brought him and a few other football players every so often to sit around and drink beer. He backed off a bit, pulling off on the side of the road - far enough away that he figured he wouldn’t be spotted but close enough to make sure they actually went into the place. He waited a minute or two after watching them walk into the shack before ambling up to a window in the front. He remembered that the place was always stinking hot - even in the winter, and they’d kept all of the windows cracked open just enough for a good cross-breeze. Luck was with him, and the window he chose was still open and gave him a good view of the main room.

Max Bolt sprawled on the old, lumpy sofa, the only furniture in the whole house, Puck remembered, while Kurt stood in the middle of the room, holding some pieces of black material.

“I’ve done everything else you made me do, but I’m not putting this on,” Kurt said, the old defiance back in his voice. “You can beat me up all you want, but I’m not wearing this!”

“Yeah, you are,” Max said, popping open a beer and throwing it back. Kurt continued to stare at Max, and finally Max sighed. “Do we really have to go through this every time?” At Kurt’s look, he growled, “Fine.” His voice took on a bored, flat tone. “Maybe Monday, I’ll focus on Artie. He and I have been really hitting it off. Maybe I’ll ask him to show me around, maybe I’ll tell him that we’ll hang out, just the two of us. He’d probably like that; the little cripple is pretty pathetic, really. And it’d be easy to drop him into this well I found a few miles outside of town. It’s way back in the woods, where no one will hear him, and no one will ever find him. Ever.” By this time, Max was leaning forward, his eyes boring into Kurt’s.

Shaking his head, Kurt whispered, “I know what you said about that kid, the one who disappeared in Michigan, but I don’t think you really killed him. I think you’re lying.”

“Really?” Max stood, downing the last of the beer. He slowly walked up to Kurt, who was obviously fighting all instincts he had to just back away. Max didn’t stop until he was staring right into Kurt’s face, only a breath apart, and said, “you want to hear all about it? You want to know what I did to that little queer?” He took the can and crumpled it against Kurt’s chest, but Kurt barely made a sound.

For the next few minutes, Max accounted, in painful detail, how he befriended, then raped and tortured some kid named Josh before strangling him and burying him in a mine at some place called Mandan.

Through it all, Kurt shook, tears welled in his eyes and ran down his cheeks, but he said nothing. He didn’t step away from the bully or make any noise, but the look in his eyes, the defeat, the grief, the pain, almost made Puck run in and beat the crap out of Max. He stopped himself just in time when he realized that while it might temporarily help things, it would probably make matters worse. Besides, as much as he hated to admit it, he was pretty sure Max could take him. A nose guard, Max was all muscle and evil, and Puck was pretty sure that combo was pretty unbeatable, especially when it was obvious that Max had finished more than one beer that night.

“Now put on the damn outfit,” Max growled, shoving Kurt so hard he bounced against the back wall.

Sick, Puck slid down the wall, hands over his ears. He wished he didn’t know about any of it, that he hadn’t seen Kurt’s bruises or followed Max or listened to Max’s confession. He wanted to get back into his truck, return to Kurt’s house, lie back down on the floor, and remember nothing about this night. But he couldn’t bring himself to leave Kurt alone. Even knowing he could do nothing to help at the moment, he felt he had to stay, in some small way keeping the boy company, even though Kurt had no idea he was outside. He didn’t know why it was so important - Puck tried to skirt around introspection as much as he could - but it felt the only part of right in the middle of so much wrong, so he stayed, crouched on the ground outside of a ramshackle shack a few miles outside of town.


	10. Puck’s First Plan

Chapter 10 - Puck’s First Plan

In his few dealings with Miss Pillsbury, Puck hadn’t found her to be helpful. Maybe her pamphlets could be used to wipe his ass if the toilet paper ran out in the bathroom, but that was about it. This time, he really hoped she’d help him figure out a way to save Hummel. Because of that damn promise, he couldn’t tell her exactly what was happening, but he figured he’d just tell her about a friend of his and keep it general.

“I totally understand, Puck,” Miss Pillsbury said, her huge eyes looking at him earnestly and making him feel a little uncomfortable. She reached for the stand behind her chair and pulled out some pamphlets, handing them to him.

Curious, he looked down and read the first one, “The Truth Will Set You Free - Telling On Someone Isn’t Ratting Out”, barely stopping himself from rolling his eyes in disgust.

The second pamphlet was even worse. “I Am My Friend - Asking For And Accepting Help From Others”. He looked up at her. “Miss Pillsbury, I really do have a friend. I’m a badass; I’d totally be able to handle it myself I had this problem.”

“Sure you would,” she said in that placating tone of voice that made him want to shove a dirty old rag in her face and watch her peel away in disgust. She continued to talk about how he - or his friend - could always come to her with any of their problems. Once he realized she really wasn’t going to be any help, he tuned her out and started trying to help himself.

By the time he’d managed to edge himself out of Miss Pillsbury’s office, he had come up with a plan and knew what he had to do.


	11. The Aftermath

Chapter 11 - The Aftermath

Thursday night had easily been the worst in Kurt’s life. Max Bolt had hurt him worse, but he’d never felt so humiliated, so alone, so defeated as he did that night. He realized, as he’d put on the humiliating scraps that became some sort of black lace bikini, that it wasn’t going to get any better. There was no one he could turn to, no one who would believe him. As he laid in bed that night, still shaking from what had happened, he’d thought about just ending it, killing himself and stopping the misery.

But then he’d felt someone get in bed beside him, pull him into an embrace and just hold him. The small gesture sent him over the edge, and he cried harder than when his mother had died, huge sobs shaking the entire bed, and that entire time, nothing was said, the only sounds in the room Finn’s snores and Kurt’s snuffles.

When Finn woke him after he’d overslept again, he automatically looked around but found no traces that anyone else had been in his bed.

Because he’d been suck a jerk, Kurt didn’t hear the news until Monday morning at school, where everyone was whispering about it and had been talking about it most of the weekend. First he only caught snatches of conversation as people passed. “I can’t believe it…” “Do you think he did it?” “Not Max Bolt!”

Finally, he grabbed Jacob Ben Israel. “What’s going on?”

“You don’t know? Oh, that’s right. You’ve been busy pissing everyone off.” Obviously excited about being able to break the story to one more person, he said excitedly, “Max Bolt was arrested on Saturday, and rumour has it he’s going to go back to Michigan to stand trial for murdering some kid there.”

“How did they find out?” Kurt asked, surprise making him talk before realizing how he sounded.

Fortunately, Jacob was too excited about the news to pay much attention. “Evidently, he got drunk and confessed to someone.”

“But why would they believe -”

“Evidently the person gave details that only someone who’d actually killed him would know, like where the body was buried and how it looked.”

“Wow,” Kurt muttered, leaning against the wall. He couldn’t seem to wrap his mind around it all. “How could he be arrested? He’s what? Seventeen?”

“Yeah, but this was one grisly murder. Plus, they’re saying it was a hate crime, because the kid was gay. They’re probably going to try him as an adult.” Jacob looked at Kurt. “You’re lucky he didn’t target you.”

“Yeah,” Kurt said faintly, barely noticing when Jacob rushed off to share more information with someone else.

Was it really over? He pressed his hands against his cheeks, trying to keep his emotions at bay. He felt his body shudder as his breath began to quicken. Suddenly he knew he had to leave; he couldn’t stay in school, not with everyone around, not knowing that he was finally free, after all this time.

Wiping the tears off his cheeks, his head lowered so that no one would notice that he couldn’t seem to stop crying, he pushed his way through the hall, trying to get to a door. He felt someone take his arm and just followed where it pulled until he felt the cold smack against his skin. His face was shoved into a scratchy wool, and while part of him was aghast at the abrasions against his fragile skin, he needed the contact even more.  
He wasn’t sure how long it took before he regained control of himself and pulled away, looking up to find Puck staring at him in concern. 

“Do you need to hurl or anything?”

“No,” Kurt said faintly, tired and relieved and just bone-deep exhausted. He looked up into the sky, absently noticing the dark, heavy clouds that signaled more snow. He thought back and said, “About Thursday night -”

“Don’t mention it,” Puck said, a corner of his mouth lifting. “Ever.”

Kurt smiled back, the feeling unnatural now after so many weeks of misery. The smile disappeared when he realized that it had to have been Puck who’d turned Max in to the cops. “How did you know?”

“How did I know what?”

“About Max?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Puck’s exaggerated innocence made Kurt roll his eyes.

“Jacob Ben Israel said that someone turned him in, and while he’s a real…”

“Douche?” Puck supplied helpfully.

Kurt shook his head but didn’t correct him. “He tends to get his facts straight. Now I know it wasn’t me. It had to be you. How did you know?”

Puck shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Kurt didn’t buy it, but he wasn’t about to grill the one person who might have just saved his life. “Well, thanks anyway.”

Puck shrugged one shoulder. “It’s nothing that your everyday heeb hero wouldn’t do.”

Kurt gave him a sideways look. “Isn’t that a slur?”

“We’re taking it back, baby. It’s now empowering.”

“Empowering,” Kurt said, his voice thoughtful. "I like that.” He sniffed delicately. Puck gave him a few tissues, and Kurt smiled as he blew his nose.

“Better?”

Kurt laughed, tilting his head up to let the flakes fall on his face. “Much better.”

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it. Comments are always appreciated, whether complimentary or containing constructive criticism. And if you read this story months, years from now, please don't hesitate to comment even then. There's no statute of limitations for something like that, and they're always, always appreciated. :-)


End file.
